Trevor burst into a hearty laugh.
“Why, Frank!” he exclaimed, “if ever there was a mare’s-nesting old humbug, it’s you. Why, whatever put that in your head?”
Pratt sat looking at him in silence for a few moments.
“Dick,” he said, “if ever there was a deliciously unsuspicious, trusting fellow, you are he.”
“Never mind about that,” said Trevor. “I want to get this silly notion out of your head.”
“And I want to get it into yours.”
“Well, we’ll both try,” said Trevor. “You begin: I’ll settle you after.”
“To begin, then,” said Pratt. “You’ve several times met that girl in the lane yonder.”
“Yes; now you mention it—I have.”
“About the time when you’ve been going up to Tolcarne?”